


I Miss the Old You Sometimes, and It Hurts.

by MythologyPastry



Series: Twisted but Alive [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eye Contact, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gentle Kissing, Idiots in Love, Injury, Kissing, Light Angst, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythologyPastry/pseuds/MythologyPastry
Summary: Widowmaker is injured during a mission, and Reaper finds himself addicted to the thought of her.





	I Miss the Old You Sometimes, and It Hurts.

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted another Twisted but Alive work for this one instead. I hope this tides some of you over until I'm ready to re-release the other one.

Reaper grunts, holding Widowmaker close to him. If it weren't for his mask, her blood dampened hair would be tickling his chin. He's quiet, thinking a mile a minute, grateful that she doesn't seem to mind the silence of his panic. Without a doctor, she could bleed out in his arms.

 

There was a bomb, located underneath her sniping perch. It was placed there by their target, and she hadn't used her grappling hook in time. Reaper isn't worried about her head. Those sort of wounds bleed a lot, but once they're safe, he'll see to it that she's checked for a concussion. What he's worried about is her thigh and the shrapnel bedded in it. There's an irrational panic that pushes to the front of his mind, that she'll be permanently injured, that her recovery will be extensive. Worse, an infection.

 

Widowmaker murmurs something against his throat, stirring just slightly in his arms. He growls, squeezing her uninjured thigh lightly, a polite warning to stop moving. She stills and says, "Talon?"

 

He kicks in an alley door and makes sure that Fawkes isn't behind them. Knowing the man, Reaper guesses he'll grab some loot and run off. His nickname is fitting. He's just as cowardly as any rat.

 

Reaper finds an empty apartment nestled in the basement of the building, its inhabitants having probably fled at the sound of bombs. Carefully, he lays Widowmaker down on a couch, never letting his eyes fall from hers as he calls Talon for assistance. He makes sure to tell them that she's injured, that they need to hurry, that he doesn't know where Junkrat is.

 

They confirm that they're sending armed response, and that Reaper and Widowmaker are not to move from their current location.

 

He ends the call as he sits on the ground next to her. She gives him a strained smile, reaching out to touch the edges of his mask. Reaper leans into her touch, and he murmurs, "I'm going to take my mask off now, Amélie."

 

Widowmaker nods, her hand drifting from his mask to his shoulder. Her touch is a constant back and forth of her thumb against his muscles, making him sigh in delight as he shows his face. His lips twitch in worry, but her smile never leaves her face. "Hi, Reaper. It's been a while."

 

He can't help but laugh. "Like it's anything special." The words are a tad biting, and he winces once he says them.

 

"Nonsense." She says. "You've lived through hell. Your face tells a story." It's a bit too poetic for her, and he smiles, tempted to mock her. But before he does, he notices a faint sheen of sweat above her lips and focuses on it. Maybe it's because of his years spent in battle, but she still looks beautiful when wounded. "Gabriel?"

 

That does it. He puts his hands beside her head, pushing up to capture her lips in a soft kiss. He sucks lightly on her upper lip, sighing in bliss from the taste of salt. She kisses back, holding him there by his hood and pressing her forehead to his. 

 

There's a noise from outside, something similar to a trashcan crashing to the ground. Widowmaker fixes his mask with rushed fingers, then he pulls away from her so fast that his heart stalls.

 

"Talon?" There's just a second after, and then the door has been knocked down, soldiers in matching suits making their way quickly into the room. A medic pushes their way to the front, and Reaper steps out of the way as they prepare to check her thigh. He realizes with shame that he hadn't checked her himself and keeps his eyes to the ground.

 

Someone grabs at his bicep, and Reaper snarls, making his way out with the escort quickly. By the time they reach the ship, he hasn't seen Widowmaker in a few minutes. Maybe his panic is visible, because when another medic passes by, she tells him that the sniper is in another part of the ship. He inhales, fortunate that no one can see the stress on his face.

 

It's so stupid to worry about this. She's a coworker, that's all she should be. But the idea of not being able to push strands of hair from her eyes, or hold her when she's sore, that kills him.

 

He won't be able to check on her until she's released, and that's if he isn't sent on another mission.

 

They make it to Talon's HQ. He stumbles off the plane, not worried about the questioning by Talon. Rough or not, they take it seriously when one of their members is injured. It's a sense of comradery. Reaper catches a glimpse of blue skin when he leaves the runway, and the sight burns. He thinks of how she was before this mess, how softly she dressed.

 

Mrs. Lacroix didn't deserve this, but maybe Widowmaker did.

**Author's Note:**

> I write Reaper too much.


End file.
